It's feel, not felt,
that's relevant.
She wrote her diary on my tongue
cut my lips to scab seal secrets
but I'm healing.
She was everything
except tomorrow.
I'm stray cat nervous
he's a room of rocking chairs
but I eat too much pussy to be one
Don glitter spit coat,
we'll strip further
it'll be gorgeous
just like the over edited images
Baby's drug haze dreams.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
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